Cardiff/ Portsmouth, Saturday, 3pm, BBC1, bet here

In an early episode of the League of Gentlemen, demented old bag Tubbs Tattsyrup (favourite food: worms) retires to a cave with a road map of Britain. The map comes from the belongings of yet another unfortunate traveller she has done in with her brother/husband Edward, and as she flicks through the pages of this strange document, enjoying a hair sandwich, she suddenly stops and announces in wonder, “There is a Swansea!” This weekend, all those millions of foreigners in their Canadas and their Thailands who have become addicted to Premier League football, with a particular weakness for regular Big Four action, will discover that there is also a Cardiff. They will find that football grown in a less financially privileged environment is so ugly as to be barely watchable. And they will also discover a need for powerful dictionaries to help them interpret all the guff about plucky underdogs and “the romance of the Cup”. Although the Wager generally has little time for underdogs - we like winners! - all our cash is going on a Welsh win.

Think we’re mental for liking the Bluebirds? Or traitors? Then get on ‘arry’s Pompey!

The statistics

* Cardiff won their final league game 3-0. The last four teams to score three or more in their final league game before the Cup Final have gone on to win - Liverpool, Arsenal, Chelsea and Manchester United.

* With Benjani sold and Jermain Defoe cup-tied,

The big talk in the various underground drinking holes of North London is that the promising French midfielder Lassana Diarra is going to continue his whistle-stop tour of Great Britain with a prolonged visit to Spurs. That’ll be his eighty-ninth club this year - or his third.

And yet, how useful would he have been on the other side of North London at Arsenal, had Wenger maintained his chilling ability to see into the future? Plus, more importantly, are we wrong to be losing faith in the proven football scholar?

And so the football season comes to a dramatic halt, with very dodgy happenings over in Boro - something stinks, and for once it isn’t Jermain Defoe’s finger. Either way, with the top and bottom sorted, the players thought it necessary to go out on the razzle-dazzle. Fashionable Movida was the place to be.

Of course, as expected, Jermain Defoe was his usual slippery self, persuading a cheerful brunette that she should just get in the car and return with him to his dreamy bachelor pad - there, he would no doubt pop on some light Jazz music, spark up a joss-stick, then make some seriously oily love to her until the sun rose, or his alarm clock went off (whichever came first). Lots of that is assumption, but probably happened.

The big news today is that it is officially the most meltiest hot day ever known to mankind - or, at least, it feels that way. And in other smoldering news, Ronaldo will be lining up for Real Madrid next year…

Cristiano Ronaldo to Real Madrid
The loud clamour coming from sunny Spain is that Cristiano Ronaldo has already met with Real Madrid’s Director of Football and agreed to play for the La Liga winners next season. It would, of course, be the biggest scoop of the summer, probably breaking big transfer records. You heard it here first (or second if you read the Spanish press, clever cloggs).

Thierry Henry to Absolutely Anywhere
Anyone who saw the aftershow chit-chat following last night’s Real Madrid/ Barcelona drubbing already knows that at Barca they have an enormous list of players who they don’t want any more (according to the terrifying satanic voice of Henk ten Cate). One of those is Thierry Henry. He will be off.

Dimitar Berbatov to Manchester City
Manchester City are ready to offer £32 million for Berbatov, and will be hoping to tempt him with their long winters, non-Champions League football, and eccentric owner who has a reassuringly itchy trigger finger. Good luck, guys.

When Kevin Keegan isn’t smearing his grubby hands all over their faces, football’s finest businessmen are busy shouting into mobile phones, downing shots of hot coffee, and hanging around in steam rooms persuading footballers to join their club. Just this morning, a bunch of fatties were spotted listening to harp music in big white towels talking about these transactions:

Anton Ferdinand to Tottenham
You have to admire Ramos’ strategy, after all, if he buys every single defender in the Premier League, other teams will have to field children at the back. In the long term, it’s a work of utter genius - have you seen kids play football? They can’t tackle, they’re rubbish.

Steve Sidwell to Everton
Having roared like an inferno with the Chelsea Reserves, it looks like Sidwell might yet pursue a career playing actual competitive football - this time trading Ballack, Lamps and JT, for the second best Neville brother (or seventh if you count 70s Soul group The Neville Brothers), Cahill and Lescott.

Lassana Diarra to Tottenham
Silly us, no one realised that Diarra isn’t looking for a career in football, he’s traveling. And now he’s ready to use his round-the-world ticket on a flight to North London - no doubt wearing some hippy beads and a tattoo that he got done during a crazy full moon party on one of Portsmouth many sandy beaches. Don’t forget your didgeridoo Lassana!

Sweet Baby Joseph, it is HOT outside. It’s all ice lollies, hand held electronic fans and bikinis in this office. But don’t be fooled, we’re not just keeping ourselves cool, there’s also work to be done. Today’s transfers read like this:

Peter Crouch to Portsmouth
So long are Crouch’s spindly spiders legs that he’s somehow managed to score thirteen goals this season - all from his seat in the dugout. Just imagine how he’d get on if he was actually playing. Word is, Portsmouth have been doing exactly that.

Michael Kightley to West Ham
Despite the fact that Alan Curbishley headed straight into hiding after getting humiliated by Man United, the gossips at the Mirror have been heard going on and on about how he wants the Wolves winger, and by Jimmy he’s going to get him.

You know the people, the ones who pop around unannounced and spend the entire evening telling you how tired they are, and how things just never seem to go their way. Wouldn’t it be great to rain a few over-the-top punches onto their moping little faces? Yeah, then they’d have something to moan about, then they’d have something to say. With that in mind, imagine the dreary dressing room that this little lot would make for.

GK Jens Lehmann
Moody Jens doesn’t socialise with his team mates, citing the big age gap as a main problem. They, on the other hand, would probably cite his ungodly whinging and arrogant manner.

DL Ashley Cole (c)
The look of utter disbelief on Ashley’s face whenever he gets booked tells you everything you need to know - he can’t believe it, why is everyone picking on him! Plus his wife just dared to get upset because he had sex with loads of other women, and it wasn’t even his fault. God, shut up, he didn’t ask to be born, you know! Our captain.

DC Younes Kaboul
Younes always seemed such a happy fellow, bounding toplessly into Jol’s arms after that great goal (against someone). But his recent huff about Ramos not giving him enough cuddles have made for a big fat grumpy baby.

DC Tal Ben Haim
Those who read The Sun a few weeks ago would have seen the pics of Tal Ben Haim in the back pages stuttering and holding back the tears, as he whimpered about how Jose was really lovely, but Avram isn’t, and he doesn’t like his new daddy, and…. big breath… he just wants to go somewhere else. What a misery guts.

Portsmouth love rat inspires more hatred in serial on/off WAG

Danielle Lloyd was paying a visit to London nightspot Funky Buddha last night (Dani in a nightclub on a school night? I know, I’m as surprised as you are) when she ran into a spot of bother with an another ex-rutt partner of Portsmouth playa Jermain Defoe. (Bearing in mind that Defoe has probably slept with the majority of the female patrons in any given London nightclub, it’s impossible to identify the girl at this point.) Apparently, things got fierce and Dani threw a glass of booze in the girl’s face, which led to her forced ejection from the club.

What could have enraged the former reality television racist so much? Did the alcohol soaked lady try to discredit

Premier League Playa of the Year dismisses relationship as a ‘fling’

Poor old Danielle Lloyd. Not only does she have to live her life in the pages of the Daily Star, but her most recent football lover has made her look like a chump in the same paper. Top “player” Jermain Defoe took up the pen to dismiss their relationship as a ‘fling’, despite the fact that not five minutes ago Miss Lloyd was gearing up to move in with him:

“As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been single since Charlotte [Meares].

“So the love rat thing is all a load of rubbish - and it’s doing my head in. Even when I left Tottenham for Portsmouth - and scored a goal on my debut - people weren’t interested in that.

“Everyone thinks I’m this big bad love rat - but I ain’t.

“I just wanna play football. I score goals and am doing stuff on the pitch, but all people want to chat about is my personal life.”

The Portsmouth striker/ Chinawhite resident also set the record straight on numerous scandals involving him and an endless string of ropey models. He claims there is nothing wrong with his behaviour, and he is simply a ‘good Catholic boy’. Who likes to go to nightclubs the night before training. Who likes to sleep with a different woman every night. And who is being driven to the edge of distraction trying to work out how people are finding out about his private life:

“I just don’t know how everything I do is getting found out,” he says, exasperated. I feel you, Jermain.

Here it is…

Barnsley/ Cardiff

West Brom/ Portsmouth